


I Never Planned

by Rehearsal_Dweller



Series: Love at First Sight's for Suckers [1]
Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: F/F, genderswap AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/pseuds/Rehearsal_Dweller
Summary: “The older you get, the more dangerous it can be to be a girl out on your own, yeah?”An AU in which Jack Kelly and Davey Jacobs are girls, but they still start a revolution.
Relationships: Crutchie & Jack Kelly, David Jacobs & Les Jacobs, David Jacobs & Sarah Jacobs, David Jacobs/Jack Kelly, Jack Kelly & Katherine Plumber Pulitzer, Racetrack Higgins & David Jacobs
Series: Love at First Sight's for Suckers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714258
Comments: 23
Kudos: 64





	1. I got no use for moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> This fic GOT AWAY FROM ME. It's my #newsiesquarantinechallenge fic day fic, and it is almost 5000 words.  
> That's the second fic in a row that ended up more than twice as long as I planned it, clearly these boys got into my head. Or, in this case, girls.  
> This roughly follows the storyline of the musical, with a handful of lines lifted more or less verbatim, with, of course, the change that takes us AU: Jack and Davey are both girls. Everyone else is the same. Feel free to assume that any scene I skimmed or skipped probably went more or less exactly the way they do in canon.  
> Have fun!

Jack Kelly has no problem with people knowing she’s a girl, but she doesn’t go advertising the fact either. The fact is, as she’d gotten older she’d started getting unwanted attention, so at fourteen years old she decided to put a stop to it. She got Crutchie to help her chop off her hair and that was that. Now she's seventeen, and most people just assume she’s younger than she is, or a late bloomer or something.

It doesn’t stop her from leading the Manhattan newsies, that’s for damn sure. She’s always on edge when new kids show up, never sure where they’d come from or how they’ll fit in. Some kids come from pretty rough backgrounds before they start selling. Some have just lost their parents. New faces always catch Jack’s eye.

 _This_ new kid is tense. He’s holding himself like he’s bracing for something, ready to dodge or run at the first sign of trouble. It’s not a bad way to be, as a newsie, but it doesn’t really seem to character. For all that he's got the uncomfortable-in-his-own-skin look of someone who's had a recent growth spurt, new kid looks pretty well put together, at a glance: vest and trousers that look meant to match, clean looking shirt buttoned all the way up, and wearing a _tie_. But the closer Jack looks, the clearer it is that it’s mostly illusion.

The vest is ill fitting in a familiar but difficult-to-place way. The trousers are too long, cuffed carefully at the ankle. The shirt, while clearly recently pressed, is worn at the cuffs and elbows. The tie might be a girl’s tie, but it’s hard to tell with it tucked neatly into his vest.

Still, it’s clear this kid hasn’t spent a lot of time on the streets. He’s hovering close to his little brother, who looks about as put together but messy in that way that all little kids are.

Jack sees an opportunity. She takes it.

“This is my brother, David. I’m Les,” the little one says. Jack notices that the older one winces at the sound of his own name, like he’s not quite expecting it. Odd.

“Well, nice to meet’cha, Davey,” Jack replies, and starts to bargain with Les. Davey’s frowning at her, but goes along with the deal.

Jack can’t help it; she’s fascinated by this kid. He’s not great at selling papers, but improving. Frowns deeply at the suggestion of lying about the headlines, but doesn’t say anything about it. He’s got features that make Jack itch for a pencil and scrap paper, especially when she sees that soft smile he saves for his kid brother. And there’s something else about Davey that Jack just can’t put her finger on. She’s resolved to figure it out tomorrow, since the sun is dipping low and their papers are all sold.

“How’s about we divvy up and get somethin’ to eat, then we can find someplace safe for the two’a you to sleep,” Jack says.

“Thank you, but we’ve got to be getting home,” replies Davey, counting out coins. “Our folks’ll be waiting for us for dinner.”

“You got folks?” says Jack. Another piece to the puzzle, even if it stung a little.

“Well yeah, doesn’t everybody?” Les asks, painfully innocent.

“Les,” Davey says quietly, hands on his brother’s shoulders. He looks up at Jack, chewing on his lip for a moment. “Our dad got – there was an accident, at work. Messed up his leg real bad, and they laid him off. No use to them anymore. That’s how come we had to find work.”

Jack opens her mouth to say something, but Les speaks before she can find words.

“Why don’cha come home with us for dinner? Mama’s a great cook!”

“ _Les_ ,” Davey repeats. There’s fear in his eyes as he looks over at Jack, but she can’t place why.

One way or another, she doesn’t want to be tangling with families. “Nah, you know what, I just remembered I’m suppose’ta meet a guy for a thing – he’s probably waitin’ on me –“

She barely has time to register the slight sigh of relief from Davey, the way his shoulders relax a fraction, before –

“Is _that_ the guy you’re meetin’?” Les asks, pointing down the block.

Jack looks where Les is pointing and locks eyes with Snyder. That _fucking_ spider.

“No,” she says. She grabs Les’s hand in one of her own and waves for Davey to take the other as she twists away and starts to run. “C’mon, we gotta get outta here!”

Jack doesn’t slow down until she’s pulled the Jacobs brothers in through the stage door at Medda’s.

“Can someone tell me why _I’m_ running?” Davey pants. Jack starts explaining the Refuge and Snyder, all while watching Davey catch his breath. His hands are on his knees and he’s leaning forward, and his hat’s fallen loose and – and –

Long brown curls are falling free from hairpins without the hat to hold them in place.

(The vest, Jack thinks, _that’s_ what was wrong with his vest. And the name this morning, and the tie, and not wanting Jack to come home with them…)

“Fucking _shit_ ,” Davey says, before transitioning into something that Jack can only assume from tone are more curse words in some other language. Her suspicions are confirmed when Davey looks up at Les, whose eyes have gone big and round, and finishes with, “Not a word to Mama, you hear me?”

“That you blew your cover on the first day or that you said –“

“Don’t repeat it,” Davey answers, holding up a hand. “Neither.”

“So,” Jack says, and both the Jacobs’ eyes move to her instantly, “David?”

“If you know what’s good for you,” Davey says before deflating slightly. “I’m – look, I wasn’t lying about Papa. But we didn’t want to send Les out on his own, and I’m no good for protection as a sister. Not that I make a great brother, either.”

“I don’t need _protection_ , Di -,” Les whines.

“Would you _stop_ ,” Davey interrupts. “It’s non-negotiable. If you’re selling papers, I’m selling papers.”

“You know, there are girls who sell newspapers,” says Jack. She takes her hat own hat off, shoving it into her pocket. She’s being careful with her tone; there can’t be any judgment here for whatever choice her new friend makes, because it’s a choice she’s had to make herself. “But if you’re gonna be selling as a boy, you might be better off cutting your hair.”

“Not happening. This is temporary.”

“Okay, okay,” Jack says, holding her hands up. “Alls I’m sayin’ is that my life got a lot easier when I chopped my hair off.”

“You –“

“The older you get, the more dangerous it can be to be a girl out on your own, yeah?”

She gets a firm nod in response. “I’m sure _you_ can handle yourself, but I need any leg up I can get.”

“What’s going on up there?” Medda’s voice interrupts. “No children in the theatre!”

“Not even me, Miss Medda?” Jack asks, leaning over the rail.

“Jack Kelly! Get down here and give me a hug!”

Before Jack knows it, she’s in the wings watching Medda perform like she’s done a thousand times, with the Jacobs siblings, which is new.

Les is entranced. It’s easy enough for Jack to pull Davey away by the hand. She leads her new friend into the shadows, a tucked away corner where they won’t be overheard.

“Now, Davey, I got a question for you,” Jack says carefully. “And you don’t hav’ta answer if you don’t wanna.”

“What is it?” Davey asks, voice hushed.

“You a girl dressin’ as a guy, or are you a guy for real?” says Jack. It’s a little blunt, but now is a time for clarity. “We got a couple boys whose families were under the mistaken impression that they were raising daughters, but a’course there’s also _me_. I just wanna know what I aughta be callin’ you.”

“Thank you.” Davey seems genuinely touched by the consideration, and stops for a moment to think before continuing. “I dare say my mother will have a hard time convincing me not to wear trousers every day for the rest of my life, but I _am_ a girl.” She twists the loose end of her hair around her fingers where it’s poking out of her cap. “My real name is Dinah. Dinah Jacobs. But I’d prefer you keep calling me David.”

“Davey,” Jack corrects, smiling.

“Davey,” she agrees, rolling her eyes.

“Alright, c’mon,” says Jack. She takes Davey’s hand again. “Les’ll be lookin’ for you.”

When Jack retakes her place in the wings with Davey and Les, her eyes catch on a familiar face in one of the boxes she can see from backstage. That girl from this morning, the one who’d taken Jack’s playful flirting and thrown a little sass back her way.

Medda finishes her song and walks back toward the three newsies. Jack catches her in a hug, congratulating her on another fine performance.

“Hey, Miss Medda,” she asks, pointing up toward the box, “who’s that?”

“Why don’t you go find out,” Medda replies.

“Can I?”

“Be my guest. Just be _quiet_.”

And so, because Jack can’t resist a pretty face, she climbs up to the box. The girl is taking notes, says she’s reviewing the show for The Sun. Jack teases her, plays a little.

She thinks she could like this girl, if she got to know her. She seems a little too proper for the two of them to be anything more than friends, but one never does know. Jack’s thinking it over, daydreaming really, when she catches a glimpse of Davey in the wings.

Davey is watching the show, an arm haphazardly around Les’s shoulders. She’s smiling brightly and easily and she looks more relaxed than Jack has seen her all day. Her hat is off again, and her hair falls around her shoulders in a loose, messy way that softens everything about her. She looks young, unconcerned, happy.

She’s beautiful.

Jack can’t help it; she starts digging in her pockets for a pencil and anything, _anything_ to draw on. She finds an old newspaper in her pocket – like, four _days_ old, why is she still carrying this? – and sets to sketching, leaning over the rail. The rest of the world fades out while she draws, it always does, and she doesn’t tune back in until she realizes that Davey has seen her. She’s glanced up for another look for reference, and meets Davey’s eyes. Davey’s giving her a slightly quizzical look, with her head cocked to one side, and Jack startles, dropping her paper on the floor of the box.

“What are you doing?” the red haired reporter asks.

“Hey, quiet down,” Jack replies, flushing bright red, “there’s a show going on!”

“You are the most impossible boy –“

“Shhh,” Jack interrupts, finger to her lips.

“ _Ever_ ,” the reporter finishes in a stage whisper.

Jack winks and leaves, and it doesn’t even occur to her until she’s back on the rooftop for the night that she’d left her sketch of Davey behind.

\--

“Are you selling papers to work your way through art school?”

“Art school?” Jack echoes. “Are you kiddin’ me?”

The reporter holds out a newspaper, five days old. The one Jack drew Davey on last night. “But you’re an artist? You have real talent, you should be in the newspaper illustrating not – not outside, hawking it.”

“Well maybe that’s not what I want,” Jack says, a little bitter. Not that it would matter if it were what she wanted, since not starving is pretty high on her list of priorities and artists aren’t known for bringing in the dough.

“Then what _do_ you want?” the girl replies.

Jack changes tack, laying the flirting on a little thick in an attempt to get this girl’s head away from Jack’s personal goals. She just rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, okay.” She takes a step back, taking Jack out of her personal space. “Have you always been their leader?”

“Me? I’m a blowhard,” says Jack. She _is_ their leader, but she could never pull something like this off on her own. “ _Davey’s_ the brains.”

“Modesty is _not_ a quality I would’ve pinned on you,” the girl says, laughing a little. “Davey asked me not to use his name in the article, do you know why?”

‘Cause it ain’t her name, Jack thinks. What she says out loud is, “S’got a family. Maybe he doesn’t want ‘em gettin’ any trouble.”

“Hmm.” She makes a note before fixing Jack with a hard look. “Do you? Have a family?”

“Nah,” Jack says, shrugging. “Just the newsies.”

“And her,” the girl adds. She holds the sketch of Davey out to Jack. “She’s your sweetheart or something, isn’t she?”

“She – something like that,” Jack replies. In as far as _strike-leading partner_ is like _sweetheart_ at all. She needs to redirect this conversation, fast. “Hey, you got a _name_?”

“Katherine,” the girl says, then pauses. “Plumber.”

“What, ain’t you sure?”

“It’s my byline,” says Katherine, shrugging. “The name I publish under.”

Not her real name, then. Jack knows a thing or two about that. She lets Katherine push the conversation back into strike territory: what are they expecting, what’s their next move.

Is she scared.

(Jack has not given herself time to be scared, not yet. There’s a decent chance she will be after sleeping on it, but that remains to be seen.)

“Good night, Mr. Kelly,” Katherine says finally, pulling away down the street.

“Hey, where you goin’? It ain’t even supper time,” Jack protests. She’d like a chance for a little more casual conversation with this girl, but Katherine’s all business.

“I have to start writing,” Katherine says, smiling. “I’ll see you in the morning. And off the record?”

“Yeah?”

“Good luck, Jack.”

She starts to walk away. Jack’s head is reeling a little, but she pulls herself together enough to take a few half-running steps after her. “Hey, Plumber!”

Katherine turns, surprised.

“Write it good,” says Jack. “We both got a lot riding on you.”

\--

The next morning starts promisingly. No one’s come to support them, so Manhattan stands alone, but Davey rallies the boys anyway. She’s not pushy or boisterous like Jack is, instead moving through their group and touching each boy on the shoulder or arm and reassuring them one on one. By the time the bell rings, they’re bolstered and ready to stand together.

It ends with Crutchie being beaten with his own crutch and dragged away by the bulls.

Jack runs. She’s not proud of it, but she’s gone as soon as Crutchie is down. She can’t help him, not against that many, and she can’t watch. So she runs, past a familiar hat abandoned on the ground, Crutchie’s fading screams ringing in her ears.

She doesn’t stop until she’s in their ‘penthouse,’ and then she falls apart. She crumples, falling to her knees where Crutchie had slept just a few hours ago. This is it, she’s done. The strike failed, and she’s got to get out of New York. She can’t stay here and stew in her failure for the rest of her god damned life.

Jack digs into her small box of belongings. She doesn’t have much, so it doesn’t take her long to get everything she needs to leave and never come back into a small shoulder bag.

She’s going to Medda’s first to paint her one more backdrop like she’d promised, and to say goodbye.

Then she’s gone. She’ll be on her way to Santa Fe, and never look back.

“God, Crutchie,” Jack says, looking out over the city, in the vague direction of the Refuge. “You were supposed to come with me, man. It won’t be the same without you.”

She can almost hear his voice in her ear, saying _then don’t run away without me, Jack._

But it’s too late for that.

\--

Davey catches up with her at Medda’s. Something feels different about her, but Jack is too caught up in her own head to identify it right away.

Davey’s smiling brightly, showing off their _front page article_ , with the big eye-catching photo. Distantly, Jack notes that this would be an easy paper to sell, if she were still selling. If she were ever planning to sell again.

Les and Katherine arrive just a few minutes after Davey, and the three of them team up to talk Jack around. Which, despite Jack’s loud protests, actually works.

“I know you and Crutchie are close,” Davey says quietly, a little later. “How are you doing?”

“Little better now,” says Jack. She finally stops to take in Davey’s appearance. “You look good.”

Davey laughs. “Yeah, sure, the black eye does wonders for my complexion.”

“I’m serious, Di,” Jack says. Davey stills at the nickname. Jack waves a hand to try to encompass what she’s seeing. “You were so god damned tense when I met you, and now you look – I don’t know, not _happy_ , but –“ She pauses, frowning. “Relaxed?”

“I guess I am,” Davey replies. She shoves her hands into her pockets. It’s honestly amazing how different she looks from just two mornings ago. Her hair is still tucked up into her hat, but it’s a little messier now. She’s got a faded blue plaid shirt on, it’s a little big on her and between the way it hangs loosely on her torso and her now unbuttoned vest it actually goes a lot further toward concealing her bust. The whole picture is more natural than the stiff, buttoned up David that Jack met on her first day.

Jack’s mind wanders back to the sketch Katherine has from that first night. She wonders if, now Kath’s spent a little more time around Davey, she’s put the thing together. Katherine’s smart, she could figure it out if she wants to. Jack’s tempted to find another scrap of paper and draw Davey again right now, but they have work to do.

There are newsies to rally and important men to visit.

She can sort out the flutter that had started in her chest when Davey smiled so hopefully at her later.

\--

No fucking _wonder_ Katherine hadn’t wanted to spill her real name.

Meanwhile, Jack’s own real name has been spat back in her face. Threats have been made.

“And what about your partner, what’s his name?” Pulitzer taunts. There’s a pause; no one seems to know. Katherine doesn’t volunteer the information. “He has a little brother, too, doesn’t he? Think of the two of them, ripped from their loving family and thrown to the rats.”

Jack takes in a sharp breath. Of course, neither a threat to herself nor a bribe would be enough to get her to back down, but a threat to her boys?

A threat to Davey?

There’s only one option from here.

The only small relief she lets herself feel is that Pulitzer doesn’t know who Davey really is. She only has a moment to feel that relief, though, because she’s being escorted down into the World’s cellar by the Delancey brothers.

“We’ve been given discretion to handle you however we see fit,” Morris says, “so behave.”

“Or don’t,” Oscar adds, his eyes skimming Jack in a way that made her skin crawl. “ _Frances._ ”

“You may know I’m a girl now, but I can still soak you,” Jack snaps. “Don’t think I won’t.”

The brothers depart not long after, fortunately without trying to lay a hand on Jack. She’s left there for the night, alone. Plenty of time to stew over how badly she’s about to betray everyone who matters to her.

No big deal.

\--

Jack comes into the rally late. She uses the stage door, comes up through the wings as Davey is addressing the crowd.

She’s a little surprised to see that Davey is wearing her hair in a ponytail swept over her shoulder but otherwise dressed the same as the last time she’d seen her. She doesn’t give herself time to wonder why, shoving her way out onto the stage.

“You wanna be treated like an adult?” Jack says, bumping her shoulder against Davey’s as they cross paths. “Start actin’ like one.”

“ _Jack_ ,” Davey says, and the relief in her voice cuts through Jack like a knife. She doesn’t know what’s coming, and it’s going to crush her and any chance Jack had of – anything.

“Don’t just run your mouth,” Jack continues, her voice lower. “Make some sense.”

“And here’s Jack!” Davey announces to the assembled newsies, who all start cheering Jack’s name in response.

Jack can’t look at Davey as she makes her plea against the strike. She hears the uproar when she first says they should disband the union, but doesn’t really feel like part of it. When she’s done, Spot Conlon shoves her, hard. Sends her reeling, and winds up for a punch that never lands because Jack has darted back into the wings. One of Pulitzer’s lackeys is waiting there, and shoves a wad of cash into her hands.

She hears a cacophony of voices, all shouting more or less the same thing. “Jack’s a traitor! _Sellout!”_

Someone grabs her arm and she turns, her own hand raised and ready to swing, before she realizes it’s just Les. It’s too late, though. He’s scrambling back, and she might as well have struck him for the look of betrayal and hurt he’s giving her.

Jack locks eyes with Davey, who’s still standing in exactly the same place – just off center stage – frozen in shock and looking broken.

“Davey,” Jack says, and it comes out shaky and ragged. Davey just shakes her head, and starts to back away.

Jack runs.

Katherine is waiting for her, and Jack’s ashamed to admit that she takes some of her restless, anxious frustration out on her.

“ – and I never lied,” Katherine insists, “I just didn’t tell you everything.”

“Oh, if you was one of mine you’d be tryin’ to talk with a _fist in your mouth_ ,” Jack spits. She’s holding tight to the rail of the fire escape to keep herself from throwing the punch – for all that she’s threatening, she _knows_ Katherine wouldn’t deserve it.

“I _told_ you I work for the Sun, and I do,” says Katherine. “I told you my professional name was Plumber, and it is. You never asked my real one!”

“I happen to know the value of letting people preserve their own privacy,” Jack says. “But I would’a asked if I’d known I was dealin’ with a backstabber!”

“Oh, and if I was one of your boys, you’d be looking at me through one swollen eye!” Katherine snaps. She’s close. She’s _very_ close.

Jack catches Katherine’s arm and brings it up to her own face. She’s kind of dying to get punched right now, with how terrible she’s feeling. “Yeah? Don’t let that stop you, gimme your best shot!”

For a few seconds, Katherine doesn’t move. She doesn’t throw her weight behind the fist that Jack’s holding onto. She doesn’t do anything. She even seems to be holding her breath.

And then she does the one thing Jack really, really didn’t expect.

She surges forward, her hands coming up to the sides of Jack’s face, and she kisses her.

It’s not a long kiss by any means, but it’s explosive.

It’s over as soon as it starts, and suddenly Katherine is four feet away, looking at Jack nervously. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t – I just – “

“What –“

“I need to know you didn’t do it for the money,” Katherine says quietly. That’s the way with Katherine, really. One minute things are personal, you’re flirting, you’re _kissing_ , and the next she’s all business.

The rest of the conversation is a blur, and suddenly Katherine’s on the ladder and trying to start in on her plan.

“Wait – wait – _wait_ a minute,” Jack says. Katherine pauses. “What’s this about, for you? And I don’t mean this whole ‘children’s crusade’ thing, what’s –“ she waves between the two of them, a little uncontrolled, “ _this_ about.”

Katherine flushes pink and climbs back up so they’re on a level. “I’m sorry, I – you seemed interested, before, and I wanted – oh, I don’t know. You snuck up on me, Jack Kelly. I don’t know what to do with you.”

“You know that I’m –“ Jack gestures to herself, meaning to indicate _a girl_.

“Yes, Jack, I was there when my father – well. I was there,” Katherine reminds her. “You still caught my eye.”

Jack sighs. “ _This_ ain’t gonna happen, though.”

“I doubt it would be advisable, although you’re – Jack, you’re really something,” Katherine says. “Anyway, you’re not really interested in me, are you?”

“What do you mean?” says Jack. She carefully avoids Katherine’s eyes.

“That night in the theatre,” Katherine says carefully. “You were looking out at someone I couldn’t see, I think it was the girl you were drawing. You had this look like – Jack, I’d never have believed that _you_ could look so soft if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“Oh, yeah, you think so?” Jack says, crossing her arms.

“I couldn’t figure out who it was, though,” continues Katherine. “Until I saw Davey onstage tonight.”

“She’s never gonna speak to me again, though,” says Jack. “So it don’t really matter what I feel about her.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Katherine tucks a bit of hair over Jack’s ear. “You’ll have to talk to her to get her on board with our grand plan, maybe you could get a word in about this, too.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

\--

Crutchie is back and shockingly, remarkably whole. Jack pulls him into her arms as soon as she possibly can. He’s still bruised, and winces when she squeezes him too tight, but he’s _here_ and _alive_ and the rest of him will heal.

“Hey, there’s my best girl,” he says quietly as she holds onto him like her life depends on it. “You been takin’ care’a the others for me?”

“Yeah, Crutch, always,” Jack replies. “You alright?”

“I will be,” says Crutchie.

Jack steps back, tucking her hands into her pockets. “With the strike over, I better be gettin’ on my way.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of singing the same old tune?” Davey snaps. Suddenly she’s at Jack’s side, holding onto her forearm with a tight grip. “What’s Santa Fe got that New York ain’t, huh? _Tarantulas_?”

“Better yet,” Katherine chimes in, coming up to Davey’s other side, “what’s New York got that Santa Fe ain’t?”

“New York’s got us,” Crutchie says quietly. “And we’re family, right?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, sighing. “Maybe I’ll stay here a little longer. I got family here.”

She looks from Crutchie to Davey, whose eyes are sparkling with unshed tears.

“Hey, Dave?” she says suddenly, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

“We’re talkin’ right now, Jackie,” Davey replies. But she lets Jack pull her away from the group and around a corner. “You gonna take that job, Jack?”

“What, me work for Kathy’s father?”

“You already work for Kathy’s father,” Davey points out, plucking the shoulder bag she’s already wearing in anticipation of picking up her papers. “It’s a pretty amazing opportunity, and you’d be using those talents of yours, and –“ She stops abruptly, staring down at Jack.

“And what, Davey,” Jack asks, suddenly slightly breathless at the look Davey’s giving her.

“And it’d keep you here,” Davey finishes quietly. “Lord, Jackie, you really are staying, aren’t you?”

“Planning to,” says Jack. It feels like an understatement. “What’s it to you?”

“I’d miss you something terrible.”

“I’d miss you, too.” Jack laughs, just a small, quiet one. “I’d probably get fed up bein’ out there alone and be back within a month if I _did_ leave.”

Davey’s studying Jack’s face, chewing on her lip a little. She’s beautiful, especially at this proximity where Jack is close enough to see the fade of dark grey to blue in her eyes and the faint freckles across her cheeks.

Oh, hell.

Jack leans forward and kisses her. It’s brief – brief is all they can get away with right now even if they wanted more, since the others will come looking for them soon.

“Jack,” Davey says as she pulls away, a hopeful smile on her lips.

“Davey,” Jack replies. “Think I might be allowed to do that again sometime?”

“I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t,” says Davey.

“Hey, Jack!” Crutchie’s voice calls from around the corner. Davey and Jack both poke their heads out, fingers lacing together as they brush up against each other. “You in or you out?”

“I was _busy_ ,” Jack yells back, but she’s laughing and the other boys are cheering as she goes to pay for her papers.

And from here on out things are different. But as Jack falls into Davey’s arms later that night, as she sketches clouds of dark curls and wicked smart grey eyes, as she _sells back her unsold papers_ , she can’t help but think that that’s a good thing.


	2. love at first sight's for suckers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was just supposed to be a short little oneshot and then the first chapter ended up like 4500 words and THEN I was like 'hey what if I wrote Davey's POV' and now it's another 5000 words longer. Some of this chapter is reverse POV of scenes in the previous one, some are scenes that Jack's POV skipped either because she isn't present or they weren't her focus.
> 
> One small note: While Jack referred to her as "Davey" even in the narration in the last chapter, since THIS chapter is her point of view I used her real name throughout, so Davey is called Dinah in this chapter except in dialogue with non-family members. Sorry if that's confusing at all. (It def took some getting used to as I wrote.)

Dinah Jacobs promised her mother when she and Les left this morning that she’d keep her head down. Thanks to her big mouth, it had only taken ten minutes for her to fail to keep her promise.

Dinah is _uncomfortable_.

There has never been a time in her entire life when she’s been surrounded by this many boys she doesn’t know for this long. She’s not used to wearing trousers, and she’s sure she must stand out with how off she’s feeling in her own skin. She sticks tight to Les, won’t let him out of her sight. That’s the whole point of this farce. She’s here to keep an eye on Les. She wants to keep her head down, not to get too involved with anyone, but she’s also not going to take being shorted lying down.

“I paid for twenty. You only gave me nineteen.”

Unfortunately, this catches the attention of the newsies’ ringleader.

“New kid’s right, Weasel, you gave ‘im nineteen. Honest mistake, I’m sure, since Oscar here can’t count to twenty with ‘is shoes on.”

Jack Kelly is short and stocky and brash and loud, with dark hair that looks almost long enough to fall into his eyes. He’s quite striking, although Dinah doesn’t have long to think about it before finding something to worry about. He takes a long look at Dinah, and she’s afraid he’s caught her out in her disguise, but then he starts making some kind of arrangement with Les and the next thing she knows they have a selling partner. Thank God Les is a better liar than she is, or she’d have blown the whole thing.

The end of their first day brings them running as fast as their feet can carry them through the back door of a theatre.

Dinah leans forward, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. But her hat’s come loose from its pins while she was running, and it falls off, landing at her feet. Her hair – already pinned into place a little less neatly than she’d have liked – gets caught up with it and comes down.

She looks up, making eye contact with Jack. His eyes are wide, mouth half open.

“Fucking _shit_ ,” she says, before diving into her colorful vocabulary of curses in Yiddish and Polish. First of all, she’d been trying to keep a low profile. Second of all, having her hair up all day and then pulled loose in one quick go _hurt_. She runs her fingers through her hair, snagging on hairpins that are still tangled in her mess of curls. When she’s finished cursing, she looks up at Les, who’s looking at her wide-eyed. “Not a word to Mama, you hear me?”

“That you blew your cover on the first day or that you said –“

“Don’t repeat it,” Dinah cuts him off. She holds a hand up. “Neither.”

“So,” Jack says, and both the Jacobs’ eyes move to her instantly, “David?”

“If you know what’s good for you,” Dinah replies defensively, but then she deflates slightly. “I’m – look, I wasn’t lying about Papa. But we didn’t want to send Les out on his own, and I’m no good for protection as a sister. Not that I make a great brother, either.”

“I don’t need _protection_ , Di -,” Les whines.

“Would you _stop_ ,” Dinah interrupts him before he can finish her name. “It’s non-negotiable. If you’re selling papers, I’m selling papers.”

“You know, there are girls who sell newspapers,” says Jack. He takes off his own hat and shoves it into his pocket. The way he’s speaking is measured, careful, but Dinah can’t place his tone. “But if you’re gonna be selling as a boy, you might be better off cutting your hair.”

“Not happening. This is temporary.” Dinah twists her hair back up onto her head and shoves her cap back on. No hairpins, this time, she doesn’t have the patience.

“Okay, okay,” Jack says, backing down immediately. “Alls I’m sayin’ is that my life got a lot easier when I chopped my hair off.”

“You –“

“The older you get, the more dangerous it can be to be a girl out on your own, yeah?” It’s an admission. _I’m like you_. _I’m pretending, too._

Dinah nods firmly. “I’m sure _you_ can handle yourself, but I need any leg up I can get.”

They’re interrupted after that, and Jack introduces Dinah and Les to her friend who owns the theatre. Miss Medda invites them to stay as long as they need, a relief since they don’t know how long Snyder will keep looking for Jack.

Jack leads them to a place where they can watch from the wings, and Les is immediately transfixed. Jack seems to be waiting for something, though, and eventually takes Dinah by the hand and pulls her into a more secluded corner. Les doesn’t seem to even notice, but Jack has orchestrated their spot so they’re far enough away that he can’t hear, but near enough that he’s in Dinah’s line of sight.

“Now, Davey, I got a question for you,” Jack says carefully. “And you don’t hav’ta answer if you don’t wanna.”

“What is it?” Dinah asks in a low voice.

“You a girl dressin’ as a guy, or are you a guy for real?” says Jack. “We got a couple boys whose families were under the mistaken impression that they were raising daughters, but a’course there’s also _me_. I just wanna know what I aughta be callin’ you.”

“Thank you.” Dinah pauses. She appreciates that Jack thought to stop and ask; the concept is unfamiliar to her but makes perfect sense. She thinks it over for a moment before finally saying, “I dare say my mother will have a hard time convincing me not to wear trousers every day for the rest of my life, but I _am_ a girl.” She twists the loose end of her hair around her fingers where it’s poking out of her cap. “My real name is Dinah. Dinah Jacobs. But I’d prefer you keep calling me David.”

“Davey,” Jack corrects, smiling.

“Davey,” she agrees, rolling her eyes.

“Alright, c’mon,” says Jack. She takes Dinah’s hand again. “Les’ll be lookin’ for you.”

Les _isn’t_ looking for her. He seems to have barely noticed that she left. Still, she settles in next to him and enjoys the performance. Dinah’s feeling a little warm in the indirect glow of the stage lights, she’s considering giving up on her cap for now and just letting her hair be loose. Jack seems to have seen someone she knows out in the audience, she pulls away from them before too long.

The next time Dinah sees her, she’s glancing out at the crowd and notices a familiar face up in one of the boxes.

Jack’s leaning on the rail, and it looks like she’s writing or drawing on an old newspaper. She’s watching the stage, no – she’s watching the wings, because when Dinah looks up at her their eyes meet. It’s hard to tell from this distance, but it looks like Jack flushes pink as she scrambles back.

Odd.

Dinah checks the time not long after, and realizes that Mama and Papa were probably expecting them home an hour ago. She tucks her hair back up into her hat, then she grabs Les’s hand and all but drags him home.

“Look at you!” Sarah greets them as they come into the apartment. She’d left for work earlier than her siblings, and so hadn’t seen Dinah’s new look yet. “Oh, Di, I hardly recognize you.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Dinah replies, rolling her eyes. “I look almost the same.”

“You _look_ late coming home,” Mama says. She hugs Les, then Dinah, then frowns. “Where have you been?”

“With a friend,” Dinah answers, the evasion coming surprisingly easily. She kisses her mother on the cheek. “Our new selling partner. We lost track of time.”

“Selling partner?” Papa echoes. He’s on the bed in the living room, unable to get up to greet his children. Dinah crosses the room to kiss him as well.

“Jack Kelly!” Les says brightly. “S’the best newsie in the city, I heard.”

“He’s showing us the ropes,” adds Dinah.

“Well that’s very kind of him,” says Mama. She looks concerned, though. “You be careful, Dinah. Teenage boys can be –“

“I _know_ , Mama,” Dinah replies quickly. “I know. I am.”

She doesn’t know why she doesn’t just tell her parents the truth, or at least some of the truth, of the conversation she had with Jack earlier. Her mother would probably feel safer knowing Dinah was spending her days with another girl, and a much more street smart one than her at that, rather than some boy she’d never met, but the urge to keep it her own keeps Dinah’s mouth shut.

“Go get washed up for dinner,” says Papa. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Sorry,” Dinah and Les chorus, and they do as they’re told.

Later that night, Sarah pulls Dinah out their bedroom window onto the fire escape. “So, this Jack Kelly –“

“Is a friend,” Dinah says firmly.

“A male friend,” says Sarah. Dinah doesn’t correct her. Sarah’s hard to redirect when she’s scheming, anyway. “Come on, is he attractive?”

“He – he is,” replies Dinah, thinking of hazel-brown eyes and calculating smiles. She tamps down the flutter in her chest as quickly as it comes up, though. Jack’s not an option. “But he, uh, thinks I’m also a boy, so…”

“Right, that would present a bit of a problem,” Sara concedes. “Still, if you’re going to be partners it’s nice if he’s nice to look at.”

Dinah laughs. “I suppose. He’s not really in the partnership for me, though. Apparently Les being little and apparently _unbelievably_ corruptible is good for business.”

“One way or another, I’m glad the two of you have someone looking out for you,” Sarah says, a little more seriously. “You know I worry about you out there.”

“I know,” says Dinah. “But that’s why we _do_ this whole song and dance with the hair and the trousers and all. And the alternative would be sending our baby brother out there alone.”

Sarah nods. She tucks a strand of Dinah’s hair over her ear. “I know, I know. Just be safe?”

“I’m trying to.”

“So Jack –“

“ _Sarah_.”

“Forgive me, Dinah, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you admit someone’s attractive before,” Sarah says, grinning conspiratorially again. “You should invite him for dinner.”

“I don’t think he’d want to come,” Dinah replies.

“Ask anyway.”

“Sarah, I’m not doing this. I’m going to bed.”

“You _like_ him, don’t you?”

“Sarah!”

Sarah shushes her, putting her finger on her sister’s lips. “You _do_.”

“I met Jack _this morning_ ,” Dinah insists, pushing Sarah’s hand away.

“Love at first sight, then,” says Sarah.

“Yeah, no,” Dinah says. She stands up, reopening the window. “Come on, Sar, we’ve got to be up early for work.”

“Okay, okay. But don’t think I don’t know that you’re deflecting.”

\--

Somehow, Dinah got roped into starting a strike.

Or, perhaps more accurately, Jack started a strike and Dinah gave her the words to articulate what she was doing. One way or another, she should be selling newspapers right now and is, instead, walking to Brooklyn with Jack and her little brother.

“So what’s the deal with Spot Conlon?” she asks. They’re not in a rush. Dinah has one hand in her pocket and is holding Les’s with the other, and her shoulder is brushing up against Jack’s with every other step. “Everyone seems scared of him.”

“Is he big?” says Les.

“Nah,” Jack says, “not really. What Spot is is _smart_. And smart’s just about the scariest thing a guy can be, when it comes down to it. S’why your brother here’s my secret weapon.”

She winks at Dinah, who feels a flush creeping over her face. “I’m not that smart, Jack.”

“Sure you are, Davey,” says Jack. Dinah grins despite herself at the name; she’s still not quite used to being called another name, but something about the easy way the nickname falls from Jack’s mouth makes it feel like the most natural thing in the world.

(She’ll answer to Davey for the rest of her life if Jack’s the one saying it.)

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say,” she says.

“How’s Spot gonna know we’re coming?” Les asks. He’s swinging their joined hands aggressively. Dinah wonders whether he’s trying to make her let go.

“He’ll know,” Jack replies. “Smart, remember? He’s always got people watching his territory, someone’ll let him know as soon as we cross the bridge.” She bumps Dinah’s shoulder with her own, intentionally this time. “He’ll be waiting for us, but he sure as hell won’t be ready for us. Eh, Davey?”

“I’m barely ready for us, Jack,” Dinah replies drily.

“That’s what I like to hear!”

\--

Spot doesn’t come.

No one comes.

Dinah knows, though, that if they’re going to do this they need to do it _now_. If they back down, even if they came back and tried again tomorrow, they’d never be taken seriously again.

They’re barely being taken seriously now.

Jack is struggling. She’s trying to rally the boys, but the words aren’t coming to her. Even she looks like she’s wavering on the brink of falling to pieces.

“Davey,” she says, and it’s quiet and pleading and she’s giving Dinah this look of absolute _desperation_ , with none of the challenge that spurred her on yesterday.

“Jack, I – “ Dinah looks around at the dejected group of kids around her. It’s today or nothing. It’s strike, or be taken advantage of for the rest of their lives. “Okay.”

She knows she doesn’t have the personality to climb something and start shouting the way Jack had yesterday, but she has a feeling that if that were what these kids needed right now, Jack would be doing it. Instead, she starts to move from boy to boy and tries to bolster their spirits one-on-one.

Crutchie arrives later than many of the others had, with a banner pinned to his crutch. He’s still smiling, a bold optimism in every ounce of his being. Dinah doesn’t know if he really, deeply believes they can do this, or if he’s putting on a brave face for the others, but one way or another it’s exactly what the others need to see. Dinah meets his eye, and his smile softens a little.

“Crutchie, this is great,” she says completely genuinely, holding the free end of his banner up so she can look at it a little closer.

“Thanks, Davey,” he replies. “How are we doing?”

“It could be better, I’m not going to lie,” says Dinah. “But we’re going to get through it. Now’s our time, there won’t be another. We just have to stand together, and no one will be able to break us.”

Someone’s hand falls on her shoulder, and Dinah doesn’t need to turn to know it’s Jack’s. She reaches up to touch it with her own hand, to give Jack some of her own support in return for the strength that’s flooding through her at the gesture.

Dinah turns out toward the group, and when she speaks it’s still soft but she knows every ear is on her. “Today we seize the day, boys. Even if the others aren’t with us, we stand for them.”

Jack squeezes Dinah’s shoulder before moving away and pulling Crutchie into a half hug. She looks out at the group, finally seeming to find her voice. “They’re still our brothers. This is about more than just us.”

“We doin’ this, Jack?” Crutchie says, so quietly that Dinah almost doesn’t hear him.

Jack nods, squeezing his shoulders. “We’re doin’ this.”

The bell rings.

It’s all going really well, until the exact moment that it isn’t.

Jack takes the first punch.

Dinah takes the second. One of the Delanceys picks Les up from Dinah’s side, whichever one hit her, and she’s back on her feet in an instant, because how _fucking dare they_ lay a hand on her baby brother. She catches Les’s hands with her own and pulls him out of his grip, into her arms. As soon as his feet are on the ground again she shoves him behind her, shouting for him to hide.

Les doesn’t need to see this, Les shouldn’t be a part of this. But Dinah needs to be, because she’s one of the god damned ringleaders and anyone who gets hurt is blood on her hands. So as soon as she’s relatively sure her brother will be alright, tucked out of the way, she dives back into the fray.

Suddenly there are police everywhere, and it’s all just getting worse and worse. Dinah’s trying to put herself between the other newsies and their attackers, to mixed success.

She been hit again, _hard,_ and this time as she goes down her cap is ripped off her head, taking half a dozen hairpins with it. She’s disoriented, shaken, and now someone is pulling her into their arms.

She struggles, at first, before recognizing the faint smell of cigar smoke and the voice that’s speaking to her. “Dave, Davey, c’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

“Race?” she mumbles.

“Yeah, Daves, you with me?” Race replies. He’s pulling her away, she doesn’t know where.

Someone is screaming. Dinah can’t make out the exact words, only tone – it’s one of theirs, and he’s hurt.

“I have to –“ she says, trying to move back toward the voice.

“You can’t,” says Race, his voice breaking. “I know you want to help, but you’ll just get taken away, too. Come on. _Walk_.”

He’s all but dragging her, but eventually they make their way away from the riot to someplace safe.

“Where’s Les?” Dinah asks finally. “Jack?”

“Jack ran,” Race says. “I don’t know where to. But Specs has Les, I saw them leave. They’re probably back at the lodging house.”

“Okay,” says Dinah. “Okay, let’s go there.”

“Um, Dave,” Race says, suddenly looking a little awkward. He sweeps his hat off and holds it out to her. “Do you want –“

Dinah’s hands fly to the top of her head. Right, her hat is gone. That definitely explains why her hair feels like it’s _everywhere_ , especially in her face. She pulls her hair back in a loose ponytail in her fist, then twists it up onto her head. She takes Race’s offered hat, hooks it over the back of her head and pulls it down, securing her hair underneath it. “Thanks, Racer.”

He bounces his weight from one foot to the other. “No problem, pal. You wanna, uh, talk about that?”

“Ask me tomorrow, Race,” Dinah says, sighing.

“Okay, Dave.”

\--

No one has seen Jack since the riot.

It’s making Dinah incredibly nervous, but she’s trying not to focus on it. She had a long chat with Race this morning at the circulation gate, on a similar line to the quiet conversation she’d had with Jack at Medda’s just a few days ago.

“You know, none of our boys would give you any trouble,” he’d said, twirling his cigar in his fingers.

“I’m starting to,” Dinah had replied. “But it’s not you boys I’m worried about.”

Race nodded. “Well if anybody ever does, you let us know. We got your back. You’s one’a us now.”

“Thanks.”

And then he’d found her hat in the square, where it’d been abandoned the day before.

Now they’ve retired as a group to Jacobi’s for lunch, and Dinah’s running out of distractions. Fortunately, as if she heard Dinah’s thoughts, Katherine arrives with one.

A big one.

And somehow, Race manages to make it even bigger.

For a few minutes, Dinah lets herself be caught up in the mayhem. She’s laughing and smiling and not focused, for just a little while, on the fact that Les is hurt – that _all_ of them are hurt – and Crutchie’s been arrested and things feel hopeless and she doesn’t know where Jack is.

Except that now she’s feeling a little lighter, she finds she does have one idea for a place they haven’t checked yet. And the beginnings of an idea for how they could resurrect their cause.

She knows she can’t just slip out unnoticed, easy as it would be, because despite the flurry of jokes and dancing, everyone is very on edge. Having her just disappear from their ranks would make everyone unnecessarily nervous. At the same time, she doesn’t want to announce that she thinks she knows where Jack is, because if she’s wrong it will just make everyone disappointed and anxious.

Instead, Dinah pulls Katherine aside. “Look after Les, would you? I’m going after Jack.”

“You know where he is?” replies Katherine, frowning.

“No,” Dinah says, “but I have a guess. If I’m wrong, I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“And if you’re right?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

\--

Jack _is_ at Medda’s theatre. She’s painting a backdrop and planning to bolt when she’s done, Dinah’s sure.

She seems mighty annoyed that Dinah found her. At the same time, though, there’s something lighter about her posture than when Dinah first arrived; she wonders if it has something to do with knowing that she is known and loved enough to be looked for and found.

Despite her fussing, Jack comes around to Dinah’s idea fairly quickly, even volunteering to pay Mr. Pulitzer himself a visit to invite him – more as a show of boldness and strength than because any of them actually expected him to show up.

As Katherine and Les lead the way back toward Jacobi’s, Dinah hangs back with Jack.

“I know you and Crutchie are close,” Dinah says in a low voice. It feels like an understatement; Crutchie is so obviously the closest thing Jack has to family, her confidant and dear friend. They live together on the rooftop when the weather allows. Jack must be devastated. “How are you doing?”

“Little better now,” says Jack, shrugging. She pauses, seeming to scan Dinah for a moment. “You look good.”

Dinah laughs. “Yeah, sure, the black eye does wonders for my complexion.”

“I’m serious, Di,” Jack says. Dinah falls completely still at the casual use of her real name, but Jack carries on like she hadn’t just done something odd. She waves across Dinah. “You were so god damned tense when I met you, and now you look – I don’t know, not _happy_ , but –“ She pauses, frowning. “Relaxed?”

Dinah shoves her hands into her pockets. "I guess I am.” She doesn’t exactly _feel_ more relaxed, but she knows what Jack means. She’s more comfortable with the boys, with how she’s dressing, with who she _is_ than she was when they started.

She thinks – she hopes – it’s for the better.

\--

The stage lights are even hotter when Dinah is standing directly in them. It’s made all the worse by her nerves; Jack is missing again.

She thinks back on the conversation she had with Race – _none of our boys would give you any trouble_. She has a feeling most of them know about Jack.

She makes a decision.

“Hey, Racer!” Dinah calls, waving him over.

“What’s up, Davey?”

“Hold this a minute, would’ja?” she says, and then tosses him her cap. She makes quick and careful work of removing the hairpins that keep her long curls concealed, tucking all but one into her pocket. She uses a strand of hair and the reserved hairpin to tie her hair back in a loose ponytail. It isn’t perfect, but it’ll do. She opens her hands for Race to toss her hat back and she settles it back on her head.

“Lookin’ good,” Race says, grinning. “Lookin’ like _you_.”

“That’s the idea,” replies Dinah. She’s still hoping that Jack will show before she has to start speaking to the crowd, but it’s looking less and less promising. So if she’s going to address everyone, she might as well feel like herself.

And standing among the newsies in her boys’ clothes with her hair down is quite possibly the most like herself that Dinah Jacobs has ever felt in her life.

Jack does eventually show up, ducking in from the wings while Dinah is talking.

“You wanna be treated like an adult?” Jack says, bumping her shoulder against Dinah’s as they cross paths. “Start actin’ like one.”

“ _Jack_ ,” Dinah says, unbelievably relieved. Anxious as she’d been about speaking on her own, most of her fear had been for Jack’s well-being. Seeing Jack in front of her, whole, is a weight off her shoulders.

“Don’t just run your mouth,” Jack continues, her voice lower. “Make some sense.”

“And here’s Jack!” Dinah announces to the assembled newsies, who all start cheering Jack’s name in response.

Only instead of a rousing speech in to support their cause, Jack shouts that they need to disband the union. That Pulitzer had made a _promise_.

Dinah is crushed. She can’t bring herself to move, even as Spot springs into motion and shoves Jack with a surprising amount of force, even as Jack starts to bolt for the wings, even as some lackey of Pulitzer’s pulls out a wad of cash.

It’s not until Jack almost hits Les – _Les,_ who Jack always treats like her own brother, too – that Dinah’s shock breaks. She locks eyes with Jack for just a moment, and her heart just shatters. She stumbles backward, away from Jack, into the chaos.

She fancies she can almost hear Jack saying her name, but she knows it’s just her imagination.

\--

“Jack’s a traitor,” Les announces as he throws the apartment door open. “Took a bribe to – to –“ he falters, looking back at Dinah.

“To make a public statement against the strike,” Dinah finishes quietly. “Against me, and everything we’ve worked for.”

Their parents don’t seem to know how to respond, but Sarah moves forward and pulls her little sister into her arms in a tight hug.

“We’re going to our room,” Sarah announces. She doesn’t give anyone an opportunity to protest, just pulls Dinah behind her into their shared bedroom and closes the door firmly behind them. They settle onto a bed, and Dinah falls apart. “Oh, _Dinah_ , darling, I’m so sorry.”

“This whole thing was Jack’s stupid idea,” Dinah says into her sister’s shoulder. “And now –“ she hiccups, “probably halfway to Santa fucking Fe –“

“You love him,” Sarah says gently.

“God help me, I do,” replies Dinah. “I really, really do, Sarah.”

“I’m sorry,” Sarah says again, rubbing Dinah’s back. She keeps murmuring reassurances and comfort and Dinah cries herself out. Eventually they fall asleep, curled up together.

There’s a clatter at the window, and Dinah wakes with a start. Her eyes meet Jack’s, through the glass, and she almost rolls back over and tries to go back to sleep. But she _can’t_ just ignore Jack. So instead, against her own better judgment, she quietly slips out of bed and pushes the window open. She holds a finger to her lips until she’s slipped out onto the fire escape and closed the window again behind her.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” she snaps in a whisper.

“Apologizing,” Jack says, just as quiet. “I wish I could’a warned you what was coming, Davey, I really do. Pulitzer made threats against you and the boys and – and I couldn’t say no.”

“He threatened _me_?” says Dinah.

“Didn’t know your name, but yeah.” Jack’s cheek look faintly pink in the moonlight, but it’s hard to know why. “I couldn’t – look, that’s not the only reason I’m here. I _am_ sorry, more than you know, but – Kath had this idea, to save the movement. But we need you. I need you.”

Dinah stares at Jack for a long moment, chewing on her lip. “Alright.”

\--

Crutchie is returned to them surprisingly whole. He’s clearly still a little the worse for wear, but he’s back now and that’s what matters. Jack all but flies to him, pulling him into a tight hug, and only loosening her grip a little when he winces noticeably. Dinah’s trying to ignore the ache in her chest at how easily familiar Jack is with him.

“Hey, there’s my best girl,” he says in a low voice as she clings to him. “You been takin’ care’a the others for me?”

“Yeah, Crutch, always,” Jack replies. “You alright?”

“I will be,” says Crutchie.

Jack steps back, tucking her hands into her pockets. “With the strike over, I better be gettin’ on my way.”

Dinah has been standing a few feet away, pointedly averting her gaze to give the two of them some privacy for their reunion, but _this_ she can’t take. She storms forward, catching Jack’s forearm in a tight grip. “Don’t you ever get tired of singing the same old tune? What’s Santa Fe got that New York ain’t, huh? _Tarantulas_?”

“Better yet,” Katherine chimes in, approaching next to Dinah and resting a hand between her shoulder blades, “what’s New York got that Santa Fe ain’t?”

“New York’s got us,” Crutchie says quietly. “And we’re family, right?”

“Yeah,” Jack says, sighing. “Maybe I’ll stay here a little longer. I got family here.”

Dinah feels like she’s going to cry from the whirlwind of emotions washing over her – one minute Jack is leaving, the next she’s staying, who knows what’ll happen next. Jack was looking at Crutchie when she spoke, but now she turns toward Dinah and meets her gaze.

“Hey, Dave?” she says suddenly, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

“We’re talkin’ right now, Jackie,” Dinah replies, trying to feel calm. It isn’t working. She lets Jack pull her away, just around a corner. She’s a little overwhelmed, and blurts, “You gonna take that job, Jack?”

“What, me work for Kathy’s father?”

“You already work for Kathy’s father.” Dinah’s already wearing her bag, in anticipation of going to pick up her papers in a minute, and she plucks the shoulder strap for emphasis. “It’s a pretty amazing opportunity, and you’d be using those talents of yours, and –“ She stops abruptly, staring down at Jack. She’s rambling a little, and none of it is quite the real reason why she wants Jack to consider this job.

“And what, Davey,” Jack asks, sounding a little like she’s forgotten how to breathe.

“And it’d keep you here,” Dinah finishes quietly. She can’t break eye contact with Jack now, she’s transfixed. “Lord, Jackie, you really _are_ staying, aren’t you?”

“Planning to,” replies Jack. “What’s it to you?”

“I’d miss you something terrible.” It feels like an admission of something much more complex. Dinah finds she’s really hoping Jack hears all the rest, everything she’s afraid to say.

“I’d miss you, too.” Jack laughs, but it’s not unkind. “I’d probably get fed up bein’ out there alone and be back within a month if I _did_ leave.”

Dinah’s eyes flick across Jack’s face, waiting for some catch. She can feel as much as see that Jack’s studying her, too.

There’s a brief moment where the world seems to freeze in its tracks and then -

Jack leans forward and kisses her. It’s not a long kiss, just as long as either of them dares, knowing that the others are just around the corner.

“Jack,” Dinah says, her voice soft. She knows she’s smiling, she can’t help it.

“Davey,” Jack replies. “Think I might be allowed to do that again sometime?”

“I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t,” says Dinah. She feels a little breathless.

“Hey, Jack!” Crutchie’s voice calls from around the corner. Jack and Dinah lean out around the wall, lacing their fingers together as they do. “You in or you out?”

“I was _busy_ ,” Jack yells back, but she’s laughing and the other boys are cheering as she goes to pay for her papers.

Dinah follows, a little slower, a little quieter. Just like always.

Today’s going to be a good day.


End file.
